Three
by trollnexus
Summary: Three is stable. Two is bitter. One is lonely. (Or, the story of Narcissa and her sisters.)


**Title**: Three

**Disclaimer**: Blah, blah, HP belongs to JKR forever and ever (until it becomes part of the public domain or whatever the law is).

**Pairings**: None

**Rating**: T

**Warnings**: Swearing, angst(?), passing mention of canonical violence, time skips

**Summary**: Three is stable. Two is bitter. One is lonely. (Or, the story of Narcissa and her sisters.)

**Word Count**: 2,466

**Prompts**:

-Party

-"Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it." – Mark Twain

**Author's Note**: This is my entry for Round 11 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.

This is also my entry for the Snakes and Ladders Challenge, with the character of Narcissa.

(Haha, sorry for double-dipping, Ashleigh, but hey, it was too good a chance to pass up.)

It took me quite a while to write this, and most of it was done in the university library as I ditched class. (The only classes I didn't ditch this week were my English classes and number theory, because come on, RSA cryptography is so _cool_. There's an example of an encrypted message on my profile, but it's not really a hardcore one since N is so small, hehe.)

Angst is not my thing, but I just let the story go where it wanted to go, and I feel prouder of this than my disastrous Ron attempt :P

For the first time, I'm going to say here that feedback is appreciated. Maybe it's because I'm lonely.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Cissy sat straight in her chair like a proper little lady, waiting to be summoned.

Today was Dromeda's seventh birthday. She sat at the head of the table (a rare honour only reserved for special occasions such as these) and was resplendent in her silk organza robes, which were a shade of burgundy that brought out the deeper tones of her ash brown hair.

Bella, who sat next to Cissy, leaned in and whispered, "Look at her. She looks like a glorified doll, like the ones in Aunt Walburga's glass cabinet."

Cissy gently nudged her with her elbow, trying her best not to roll her eyes. Aunt Walburga's dolls were hideous, and surely Dromeda at least looked better than them. She did look like a cocooned insect, though. Mother liked to swathe her children as if mere fabric could protect them from the endangerments of their world.

"Narcissa," commanded her mother with a slight nod. Cissy stood up carefully, making sure not to wrinkle her skirts or crumple her present as she made her way to her sister.

"Happy birthday, Andromeda Black. I, Narcissa Black, bequeath to you a gift made by my own hands."

She said this slowly, making sure to enunciate each syllable. It had taken her a few hours to memorise this sentence and get the inflections just right, and she was not going to let that effort go to waste.

Cissy placed the gift onto Dromeda's lap. Then she gave a deep curtsey and retreated back to her seat.

With great ceremony, Dromeda unfurled the scroll of parchment and held it up for the family to see.

It was an oil pastel rendering of a violet, inlaid with subtle streaks of white to denote purity. Cissy had spent the better part of a month examining photographs of violets and sketching dozens of drafts with her tutor before she could produce a passable picture, but the way Dromeda's wide dark eyes lit up made the effort worth it. Cissy smiled demurely, even though her heart was fit to burst in her chest. It was not becoming of a Black to show too much emotion if one could help it.

"Bellatrix," Mother commanded, and the gift-giving procession continued.

* * *

"What are you doing, Dromeda?"

As nine-year-old Narcissa got closer, her eyes widened in horror as she saw Andromeda's mud-stained gloves.

Andromeda grinned, probably guessing correctly the reason behind Narcissa's disapproval. "Gardening. I already asked Father for permission, and he said that it was not improper for a lady to garden as long as she only did it for aesthetic reasons."

Narcissa bit her lip, which was a recent habit she acquired after she witnessed Mother hexing Bella's mouth to froth out soap bubbles every time she swore or said something unladylike. If she had nothing nice to say, then it was better not to say it. "I see."

"Would you like to help?"

"That is quite alright. I would not want to detract from your pastime."

Andromeda smiled and shook her head, but she did not argue. "Your loss. These will be beautiful once they bloom, and then you will be jealous."

"I do not doubt that they will be beautiful, but I _do_ doubt that I will be jealous. I would never begrudge you for anything you have, for you are my sister. What you have, I have also."

Andromeda put down her trowel, took off her gloves, and stood up. Narcissa tensed. With Bellatrix, calm and deliberate action usually only preceded violence or an angry tirade. She did not know what it meant for Andromeda, however, since Andromeda always moved calmly, no matter what her mood.

She placed her hand on Narcissa's cheek, moulding her palm to fit. "Oh, Cissy. You are such a darling. I worry about you sometimes."

"What do you—"

But before Narcissa could complete her question, Andromeda was already enveloping her in a hug.

She quieted. Hugs were rare and a furtive source of pleasure.

Andromeda smelled like earth, and that wasn't as bad as she had feared.

* * *

"Happy Birthday, Narcissa Black. I, Andromeda Black, hereby present you with a gift made by my own hands."

Ten-year-old Narcissa admired the sparkle of her own silver sleeves before reaching for the pot in Andromeda's hands. It contained the most beautiful violets she had ever seen, for the petals were a deep, rich purple, the colour of kings and queens. She made note to ask Mother for robes of this exact shade.

She nodded at her sister as she stepped away, letting her eyes speak her gratitude for her. Although she still did not approve of Andromeda's horticultural pursuits, she had to admit the results were worth it.

She set the pot aside as Bellatrix approached with her own gift, a hand-sewn teddy bear.

As silly as it felt to sit on a gilded chair while wrapped up in a voluminous set of robes, Narcissa had to admit that birthdays were the best days.

* * *

Narcissa woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of a wretched scream echoing throughout the Slytherin dungeons.

"Blast," groaned Nott from the bed closest to her. "Is that bloody Bella again? Cissy, go tell her to pack it in."

Narcissa groaned. What was it now? She rubbed her cheek against Bellatrix's bear, which she still slept with in the curtained privacy of her bed. His name was Caelum.

"I do not wish to venture out there, Imelda. I am sure that Bella will get over her tantrum eventually."

"Whatever happened to behaving like a proper lady?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes, but only because it was dark and Nott probably could not see it. "A proper lady does not cuss, either, but I do not see that stopping you."

"Oh, hush. Cursing is definitely allowed when one is in the same house as Bellatrix Black. It is required, even."

Narcissa smirked in the darkness. "Well, she is graduating this year, so your excuse for profanity will soon be gone."

"So are you going to go soothe her or not? I doubt Dromeda will do it."

It was hard not to snort at that statement, but Narcissa managed. "Please. I think she is likely the _cause_." With this in mind, Narcissa reluctantly left the warmth of her bed and put on her slippers. "I shall investigate."

Although Narcissa could not exactly pinpoint when these screaming matches between Bellatrix and Andromeda started, they had become a daily part of life by now. Their house had simply put up with it, for calling upon Slughorn to deal with them would only exacerbate the situation. Nobody wanted to see the man covered in boils; he looked unappealing enough as it was.

No, the only person who had any hope of dealing with Bellatrix's flares of temper was Narcissa, and that was a fact of life she had to accept.

* * *

"That bitch, that wretched bitch! I always knew she would betray us!"

Narcissa sighed. Sometimes she wished Bellatrix would stop acting so uncouth, but perhaps it was too much to ask of her hot temper.

"Bella, what concerns you? Is it something Dromeda did again?"

"What concerns me is _this_." She flung a crumpled ball of parchment at Narcissa, who caught it deftly.

She opened it carefully with her nimble fingers, not wanting to tear any bit of it. When she read the message within, however, she dropped it, her hands trembling.

"No," she croaked.

Bellatrix sneered. "Yes. It is exactly what you read. Oh, what will Mother think?"

"How could she leave us?"

"Very easily, apparently. Ran off with her Mudblood boyfriend without a backwards glance at us. And right before my wedding! That unmitigated twat!"

Narcissa couldn't feel her face, her chest, or any other part of her body. She didn't even know if she felt angry, sad, or anything else.

All she knew was that she was running out into the garden like someone possessed under the Imperius, stomping on Andromeda's bed of violets without a single expression on her face.

Bellatrix ran after her, shouting encouragement. "That's it, Cissy! Stomp on them! You are finally acting like a human being!"

On the contrary, Narcissa felt like an animal.

* * *

That night, she couldn't sleep. The scent of violets lingered.

* * *

Bellatrix's wedding was a sombre affair. Father and Mother were determinedly performing the emotion of cheer, but their smiles were jagged like shards from a broken mirror.

Narcissa was maid of honour, but it felt all wrong. Her dress was too long, meant for a sister who was no longer here.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," intoned the bonder, waving his wand in a motion to symbolise infinity.

Narcissa looked at her feet as Bellatrix and Rodolphus exchanged a perfunctory kiss.

It was unbearable to see the blankness in those black eyes.

* * *

"Mother." Narcissa felt a tug on her sleeve, and she looked down to find little Draco with his eyes wide open, his mouth set in the pout that meant he had a burning question and wouldn't take "I don't know" for an answer.

"Yes, my son?"

"Why does Grandmother Druella keep muttering about someone named 'Andromeda'? Who is that?"

Narcissa closed her eyes. Her mother was losing her grip on reality, so it was not uncommon for her to hallucinate that her long-lost daughter had come home.

"No one, Draco. You know your grandmother is unwell. Now, are you in the mood for some tiramisu?"

His face lit up at the mention of sweets, and he twirled around in his dark purple robes. "Yes, please!"

She summoned Dobby and hoped the topic would never be mentioned again. She did not want her little prince to ever feel the pain of the past.

* * *

"Cissy."

Narcissa looked up from her flowerbed and set down her trowel. "Bella. What brings you here?"

"I just wanted to pay my baby sister a visit. Is that not allowed?"

Narcissa quirked her lips. "It is allowed. Provisionally."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes, which was exactly what her comment deserved.

"What's that you're doing? I thought you swore to yourself that you would never, ever garden."

"Yes, I did make many rash vows as a child, did I not? I find gardening calming now that I am older. Now that Lucius is busy with his governing duties and Draco is at Hogwarts, I need to find a way to occupy my time."

"Well, leave off that and occupy your time with me. I am in dire need of entertaining."

"What, Roddy is not enough entertainment for you?"

Bellatrix snorted. "As if! Too busy being bitter about Azkaban, that one."

It was then that Narcissa blinked.

Azkaban.

She looked up, and there was no Bellatrix.

There was only an unfinished garden.

She sighed and stood up. The heat was getting to her. Either that, or she was losing it like Mother.

* * *

"_You_," Narcissa hissed as Bellatrix, the real one, appeared at her doorstep.

"Me," she responded, baring her teeth.

She yanked on Bellatrix's robes and pulled her into the Manor, shutting the door.

"Irresponsible! Absolutely irresponsible!"

"What, torturing those blood traitors? The Longbottom family has fallen long ago, Cissy. I was only doing them a favour. Now they are honoured martyrs, heroes to blood traitors and Mudbloods everywhere!"

"Why did you come here? Go be with the Dark Lord, where you belong!"

"I am just here to remind you of your duty. You have a son, do you not? Has he taken the Mark yet?"

Narcissa blanched, and Bellatrix grinned wider.

"I am not the only one who belongs with the Dark Lord. Your husband may have gotten off easy with his Imperius excuse, but he cannot keep shirking his duty forever. Besides…I hear that he has mishandled something that belonged to the Lord. Do you really think the Dark Lord will leave that transgression unanswered?"

Narcissa closed her eyes, shutting out her sister-turned-enemy. It was a nightmare that never ended.

* * *

"Let go, Bella!"

They were in front of Severus's house, and Bellatrix was being unbearably difficult.

"Cissy, your own sister? You wouldn't—"

Narcissa thought of Andromeda, long gone. She thought of all the years Bellatrix spent in prison, trapped by her own fanatic obsession with the Dark Lord. She thought of Lucius, who grew paler with worry every day.

She could not lose Draco to this madness, too.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do anymore!"

She broke free of her sister's grip.

* * *

Bellatrix's funeral was almost as sombre as her wedding had been.

Narcissa wished she could have said goodbye to her on good terms, but she had ended up betraying Bellatrix in the last moments of her life.

Well, it was not like Bellatrix ever knew directly that Narcissa had saved the enemy, but Narcissa suspected that she probably knew now, since the dead knew everything.

As she approached the coffin, she placed Caelum-the-bear on her sister's chest.

"Thank you for the gift, Bella, but I will not need it now."

* * *

Narcissa stood in front of the house, which was small and quaint. Typical Mudblood taste, really, but she could not find it in herself to feel too disgusted about it.

She held the pot in her hands, the exact one that Andromeda had given her all those years ago. The original violets had long since died, of course. In fact, they had died even before Andromeda left the family home.

It was the sentiment that counted, not the physical object.

She placed the pot on the doorstep and whispered a blessing before preparing to leave.

The door opened.

Narcissa froze, finding herself face-to-face with the one person she thought she would never see again.

"You." It was said calmly, in true Dromeda fashion.

"Me."

Andromeda looked down at her feet and saw the pot.

"Ah. I see. You are officially divesting yourself of any and all remaining ties to the blood traitor, right?"

Narcissa clenched her jaw. "That is not what I came to do at all."

"Then why are you here? And why did you bring this old thing? I do not want it back."

Narcissa could not find the words to explain, and the silence stretched out into the twilight.

Andromeda let out an explosive sigh. "Come in. It is Teddy's birthday today, and we are having a party. You might as well meet him. He's your family, after all."

Narcissa swallowed her pride and fear, causing a weight to settle in her chest. "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure that he is your family? No. But if you're willing, he could be. So come in. Bring that pot with you. It is rude to intrude upon a party without a present, after all."

The two of them entered the house, closing the door behind them.


End file.
